


Right where you are, that's where I am

by duesternis



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM Vibes, Deepthroating, Light Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Power Play, Pre-Canon, Rough Oral Sex, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26302330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis
Summary: James pursed his lips and stepped into the room."You stood me up, Fred.""Hello, Walter."James closed the door behind himself.Edmund would know not to disturb them when the door was closed."You said you’d be there.""Something came up." Fred lifted his shoulder in a childish shrug and then laughed softly. "I got your note."At this Fred turned to look at James, mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. It didn’t suit him.James rocked on his heels and then briskly walked to the table, pouring two cups of tea. Handed one off to Fred, who took his sweet time to take one hand out of his pocket and accept the tea."I apologize, I was drunk and upset when I wrote that. You weren’t supposed to actually recieve it."Fred laughed and walked back to the window, sipping his tea. His eyes were alight with humour."I figured as much."
Relationships: Lt James W. Fairholme/ Charles Frederick Des Voeux
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Right where you are, that's where I am

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the filth factory, enjoy your stay.
> 
> cheesed to meet you, all newcomers, welcome back, all again-visiting readers
> 
> title is from Lana Del Rey's "Mariners Apartment Complex"

Lieutenant James Walter Fairholme had been stood up.  
Not for the first time, mind, but it stung just as bad as it had the first time.  
He sipped his wine and ate his dinner, stoically ignoring the set place across from him. The still artfully twisted napkin nestled in the plate, the pristine wine glass and the shining cutlery.  
He sat with a straight back and ate.  
The people at the other tables didn’t have that courtesy.

There was definitely talk. Definitely thinly masked glances and vaguely pitying expressions all around.  
By now he should be used to it.  
Desensitized to the mocking amusement from the waiters and the little coos from women when they passed his table for two, occupied by one. To the jovial pity from the other gentlemen around the room, already spinning a tale to tell in their clubs.  
Well, he wasn’t.  
It was all very embarrassing, but the food was good and the bottle of wine bought. So he would dine alone and drink his wine and then take a cab home and drink some more and write a disappointed, angry, hurt note.

Which he’d scrap in the morning, when he was sober again, and write a new one, asking for another meeting.  
Maybe not for dinner, as that hadn’t worked out, but instead maybe rather for a show. The races, perhaps.  
Fred had enjoyed the races last time, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed with pleasure, watching the magnificent horses on the tracks.  
He’d pointed out the jockeys to James, insisting they talk to some of them after the race, maybe buy them a drink.  
James had readily agreed.  
They’d walked the dusty length of the tracks arm in arm, hats in their hands, Fred warm and handsome next to him and James quite swept up in his wake.  
But dinner was apparently too stationary for Fred. Maybe he’d like eating by the racetracks better. More dust.

James sighed into his wine and dabbed his mouth with his napkin, finished his roast with a sad little smile.  
He was already bitter enough to write the damning note to Fred.  
Dessert came and went and he sat and smoked until the wine in his glass was the last.  
The room was almost empty by now, only a handful of other tables still occupied, the people talking low amongst themselves.  
No one sat alone. Women had their hands cradled safely between the palms of their fellows, men had their arms slung around each other’s backs, heads stuck together.  
James sniffed and tapped his cigar against the crystal ashtray.

Inevitably, drunk on a whole bottle of wine, he started pondering what Fred might be up to tonight, that he hadn’t been able to keep the appointment.  
A dozen unbidden thoughts were the result.  
Fred, laughing with handsome women, dancing in a brightly lit ballroom.  
Sharing a cigarette in a cozy corner of a lavish garden.  
Kissing down the pale throat of a girl, mouthing at the pearls on her collarbone.  
James stood with a muttered curse and swore under his breath. The wine had gotten to his head and only his knuckles pressed tightly against the table kept him from falling back into his seat.  
He shook his head to clear it and navigated the swaying room to the front desk.  
The waiter eyed him with a funny expression and James loathed him for the short time it took to settle his bill and get his coat.  
By the time he stood outside he was caught up in the loop of Fred doing unspeakable things with beautiful women in exquisite dresses again.  
He swallowed thickly and adjusted the grip on his walking stick. Put his hat on his head with a snort and then turned down the street briskly, towards the cab stand at the corner.  
Well, if Fred enjoyed the company of others more than that of James, then James would not trouble him any longer.  
No more letters, no more notes asking for meetings at the races or park or his club or at home.  
No more humouring Fred’s bad singing and worse french.  
No more lending Fred money. No more gifts.  
No more pretending to read while he stared at Fred lounging on the settee in shirtsleeves and socks.

James nodded to himself and waved a cab over, settling in the seat and keeping a tight leash on his thoughts until he stumbled up the stairs to his door.  
He tossed his hat at the hat stand, missed wildly and dropped his coat next to the peg. Kicked his shoes off and settled in the sitting room with a bottle of brandy and a glass.  
Dipped his pen into his ink and penned a note. Folded it, sealed it clumsily, adressed it and congratulated himself.  
Swaying like a reed in the wind James finished his drink and braved the stairs.  
Immediately passed out face down in his bed, feeling quite accomplished.

The note was nowhere to be found when he woke with a pounding headache and the taste of old socks in his mouth.  
"Edmund," he called for his boy, standing in the doorway of the sitting room, dressing gown open over his shirt from yesterday. His naked toes dug deep into the rug.  
"Yes, sir?" Edmund hurried across the foyer, tugging his jacket into place.  
"There was a note on my desk, where did that go?"  
"Out with the morning post, sir. I figured you wanted it delivered as soon as possible, adressed as it already was, sir." The boy beamed, showing off the last of his tooth gaps. There was milk on his upper lip.  
James didn’t have the heart to chew the boy out and smiled wanly. Thanked him shakily and asked for breakfast to be brought into the sitting room.  
Edmund clacked his heels, gave a sharp bow and then hurried back towards the kitchen.  
James sat down heavily on the settee and stretched his legs. Cursed himself out in the privacy of his head and then stared at the ceiling until breakfast arrived.  
He ate mechanically, returned upstairs to get dressed and then sat at his desk.

There were ink blotches on the top-most sheet of paper, sealing wax stuck three sheets together and James idly scratched at it.  
Maybe the note was completely illegible.  
God, he hoped it was completely illegible and maybe it would compel Fred to come by and check up on him.  
Edmund cleared his throat by the door and James looked at him. Blinked against the driness of his eyes.  
"Yes?"  
"Apologies, sir, is there anything you need? If you don’t mind me saying, you look a tad pale."  
James laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Thank you, Edmund, I’m fine."  
"Of course, sir," Edmund said, obviously unconvinced, but he left James to his own devices.  
Which meant he kept staring at the ink splattered on his writing paper, mind spinning wildly. He ran his thumb over his mustache, from one end to the other and back.

The bell ringing spooked James out of a vivid daydream of Fred marrying some faceless girl in a fine wedding dress, church bedecked and filled to the last seat.  
Edmund opened the front door and James vaguely heard voices from the entrance hall.  
He leaned back in his chair, limbs stiff from sitting there all day.  
It must be already way past noon.  
A knock at the door to the sitting room and he cleared his throat, fingers flying to his mustache.  
Edmund leaned around the half open door and grimaced faintly.  
"Sir, a Mr Des Voeux for you. Should I invite him in?"

James stood so swiftly his chair almost toppled. His knuckles pressed hard against the leathertop of his desk.  
"Show him to the smoking room, please, I’ll be there shortly. Have tea brought in, Edmund, be a good lad."  
"Right away, sir," Edmund said and vanished again.  
Voices, then steps through the foyer.  
James took a deep breath and tugged his waistcoat into place. Checked his watch. Almost two in the afternoon.  
He swiped a thumb over his mustache and then walked the short way to the smoking room at the back of the house in a measured pace, hands gathered in the small of his back. He would not shame himself by storming in and being emotional.  
James was a gentleman first and foremost, and also a Lieutenant in Her Majesty’s Navy. Decorum was first nature for him.

The door was open, the maid passing James with a curtsy, and Fred stood by the window, hands in his pockets and one shoulder against the wall. There was a cigarette behind his ear.  
Fred liked to paint himself as quite the rascal and well, he could be.  
The tea tray was nestled between two stacks of books on the table in the corner. The maid had put a plate of biscuits out with the tea.  
There was an empty space between two jam-biscuits.  
James pursed his lips and stepped into the room.  
"You stood me up, Fred."  
"Hello, Walter."

James closed the door behind himself.  
Edmund would know not to disturb them when the door was closed.  
"You said you’d be there."  
"Something came up." Fred lifted his shoulder in a childish shrug and then laughed softly. "I got your note."  
At this Fred turned to look at James, mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. It didn’t suit him.  
James rocked on his heels and then briskly walked to the table, pouring two cups of tea. Handed one off to Fred, who took his sweet time to take one hand out of his pocket and accept the tea.  
"I apologize, I was drunk and upset when I wrote that. You weren’t supposed to actually recieve it."

Fred laughed and walked back to the window, sipping his tea. His eyes were alight with humour.  
"I figured as much. Sorry I stood you up, James."  
James licked at his mustache and drained his cup of tea in two long swallows. Fred was watching him, cup lifted to his full lips.  
"I waited for you, Fred, like a fool! The whole room was talking about me, looking at me. I was just waiting for one of the women to put a comforting hand on my shoulder. I’m the talk of more than one club today, I can assure you. It was embarrassing! You embarrassed me!"

Fred put his cup on the windowsill and ambled from the window to the table, picking a biscuit up from the tea tray.  
"I apologized, what else do you want from me?"  
James dragged a hand over his face, exhausted, all of a sudden.  
"Either be there, next time, or cancel, please. If you stand me up like that again, Fred, we’ve been associates the longest time."  
"Associates.“ Hhmm." Fred sat on the corner of the table and grinned. Ate his biscuit. "Is that what we are, James?"  
He leaned forward and touched the back of James‘ hand with two fingers. There were crumbs on them.

James swallowed and looked at Fred, willing the simmering anger to stay simmering. He wasn’t a violent man, but God above, sometimes Fred really put him on the edge.  
"Frederick."  
"Walter."  
That sardonic smile again. James took the cigarette from behind Fred’s ear and pocketed it.  
"Show me the note."  
"I don’t have it with me."  
The fingers smoothed over his hand, dipping under the edge of his cuff.  
James made a gruff noise and Fred tilted his head, calculating something, eyes flitting over James' face. He smiled swiftly, seemingly arrived at some conclusion.  
James lifted a brow.  
Fred inhaled and then shrank a bit where he sat, eyes big and warm in his handsome face.  
"Let me make it up to you, James. Let me be good to you, yes?"

He slid down from the edge of the table and put his free hand on the hemline of James‘ waistcoat. He tilted his chin back and looked up at James with a soft expression. Bit his lip.  
James knew he should step back, should make Fred stop this manipulation.  
But he was tired and had a headache and he didn’t want to fight.  
And Fred was warm and handsome and he wanted. Wanted him.  
"Promise me," James said softly, "Promise me you will do as I ask, Freddie. Promise you will be good."  
Fred smiled and stepped closer, chest brushing against James‘ with every breath.

"I promise to be your good boy."  
James closed his eyes for a moment, Fred’s hand on his chest now, warm through the cotton of his shirt. A kiss ghosted over the edge of his jaw.  
He swayed into Fred, a low sound building in his throat.  
Fred breathed loudly against the side of James‘ neck. Kissed the thin skin above James‘ collar.  
"What do you need, sir? My mouth? My hand? Hhmm? Anything you need, sir, you’ll have it."  
Fred’s voice was so soft, so dear and James was helpless in the current of it. It pulled him in ever deeper.  
He looked at Fred and took a shuddering breath.  
Fred smiled up at him, slowly opening the buttons on James‘ waistcoat. His fingers danced up and down along his shirtfront.  
"Or do you want to bugger me? Have me on the table? The hearthrug? Or in the armchair?"

Fred held James‘ gaze captive and pressed ever closer against him.  
He rubbed the heel of his palm roughly over James‘ swelling cockstand, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.  
There was nothing James could say over the heavy beat of his heart in his throat.  
Fred smiled, syrup-sweet.  
"Sir, if it’s what you need, I can also bugger you. Spread you out on the divan and make you scream."  
Fred's smile morphed into a grin, tongue between his teeth and the faintest hint of colour on his cheeks. It suited him.  
His hands were warm over James‘ waist, under his open waistcoat.  
It was mesmerizing.

James cupped Fred’s smooth cheek in a hand and gently rubbed his thumb over the cheekbone.  
"My dear boy," he croaked and leaned in to kiss Fred. Who turned his face into James‘ palm, making the kiss land on his cheek.  
With a cheeky grin he licked a wet stripe over James‘ palm, moaning like a cheap dockside whore, eyes crinkled in amusement.  
"Freddie, be good," James said sharply, pinching Fred in the thigh.  
Fred gasped, eyes comically wide, tongue wet on James‘ hand. He shivered against James‘ palm, hands twitching on James‘ ribs.  
"Apologies, sir."  
Fred turned his cheek back into James‘ palm and licked his lips.  
"Do you still want to kiss me?"

 _Always_ , James wanted to say, but he stayed quiet and simply kissed Fred. His lips were smooth and soft, slick, from where he had just licked them.  
They tasted faintly like tea.  
Fred made a soft sound and looped his arms around James‘ waist, pushing the waistcoat out of the way. He opened his mouth against the gentle tap of James‘ tongue.  
Always so receptive.  
James closed his eyes and sighed into Fred’s mouth. He smoothed his hands down Fred’s arms and tilted his head, kissing down the slope of Fred’s cheek to the corner of his jaw. There was the faintest hint of stubble, of an uneven shave in bad lighting.  
Fred grabbed James‘ waistcoat and insistently pulled it off his shoulders. It hit the floor with a clunk and James worried for his watch a moment.  
But Fred biting at his earlobe made him forget about it quite immediately.  
Made him weak in the knees, breath coming in gasps already.

"Stop, Freddie, for God’s sake, please."  
He pulled Fred off his skin, holding him by the shoulders, taking his flushed cheeks and red lips in. Kissed red.  
James gently pushed Fred towards the seats by the hearth, and was met with playful resistance.  
"Where are you taking me, sir?", Fred quipped, pressing a kiss to James‘ chin, fingers plucking at James‘ braces.  
"Divan, Freddie, settle down, now."  
Fred laughed and fell down on the plush seat, legs kicked up on the length of it. Like something out of a painting.  
"Well, well, sir, what now?"  
James smoothed his mustache with the side of his thumb and Fred took the chance; cupped James‘ erection in a hot palm.  
Licked his lips saucily.  
"All for me?"  
"Freddie, stop that and take your clothes off," James said firmly and unmoored Fred’s hand from his groin.  
Fred bit his lip, batted his lashes and then whistled a little ditty, that probably had a saucy text in the original. James didn’t know it, but would probably know it by heart sooner than he’d like.  
At least Fred did start on his laces, kicked his shoes off and carelessly dropped his jacket and waistcoat on the floor. Untied his neck tie and James took it from him, half a mind to use it later. It was sturdy and had a good length.  
Tie Fred’s wrists together maybe, or blindfold him.

Fred popped the buttons on his shirt, slipped out of his braces with a little shimmy he must have seen on a whore before.  
Only that Fred had no tits to shake.  
It still made James hot under his collar, eager to get his hands on Fred’s milky skin.  
Eager to taste his sweat.  
James swallowed heavily and twisted the blue silk in his hands. His cockstand strained against the front of his trousers and he must look quite ridiculous.  
Fred pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it behind himself, coming out of it completely tousled.  
His chest was flushed, nipples dark and stiff and James reached down, brushing his fingers over one.  
Fred moaned, eyes falling closed, legs spreading on their own accord.  
"Oh, is that how you want to be? Fondled, Freddie? Cupped and pinched until you mewl for more, your bosom so red with it?"  
"Please, sir," Fred whispered, opening the buttons of his trousers, shoving them halfway down his thighs. His linens were tented at the front.  
James licked his lips, fingers still on Fred’s chest.  
"Go on, finish undressing, my boy."

There was a faint sheen of sweat on Fred’s forehead and James leaned down to kiss his brow. Fred rubbed his nose against James‘ muttonchops, breathing hotly against his skin.  
"Sir, you’re still so dressed. Please, I want to touch your skin."  
James rubbed his thumb hard over one of Fred’s nipples and Fred gasped loudly, body lifting from the divan, taut like a line.  
"Undress, Freddie, and then we’ll see about that, alright?"  
With a little laugh Fred sank back down into the cushions and pulled his trousers off. He flung his socks somewhere across the room and then teasingly fondled his stiff prick through his linens.  
It was unsavory, how it affected James when Fred was so crass. He should be above things as base as that, as a gentleman.  
He wasn’t.  
"Off with them, my dear boy, and swiftly now."

"Yes, sir," Fred said, teeth biting into his lip with the width of his grin. James pursed his lips and pinched Fred’s nipple sharply.  
This time he shouted, short and loud, clapping a hand over his mouth immediately afterwards. His eyes were huge and shocked for a single breath, then he sank against James, fingers toying with his neck tie, tugging the knot loose.  
There was that sardonic smile again, curling Fred’s pretty mouth into an unfriendly shape.  
James wanted to wipe it off Fred’s dear face.  
"Oh, what if someone heard that, sir, huh?"  
"Don’t bother yourself with that, Freddie. We’re alone."  
"And the boy that opened the door for me? Your maid or housekeeper? Do you honestly think they don’t sit in the kitchen, ears strained for any sound from us? Do you think they don’t know why we spend time together, hmm? How we spend time together?"  
Fred gently touched James‘ cheek and James‘ breath hitched. His heart was in his throat again, mouth dry and hands unsteady on Fred’s chest.  
God, the household was probably gathered in the kitchen, listening for any suspicious sounds.  
The maid had a soft tread. Maybe she was stood by the door, listening to every word.  
James shivered, breathed roughly and tapped a shaking finger to Fred’s wet lips.

"You have a dirty mouth on you, Freddie."  
"Do you not like it, sir? Do you want me to demure more? Kneel for you and say please and thank you?"  
James‘ swallowed heavily, throat clicking. He was sweating.  
Fred swiped a drop of sweat from his temple and sucked it off the tip of his finger. His eyes were half-lidded, lips pink and flush around his finger.  
He moaned faintly and pulled his finger out again with a moist sound.  
James prick twitched in his pants.  
He tapped at the top most button of Fred’s drawers and Fred obliged with a little smile.  
Popped the buttons slowly, one after the other, and then let the flap fall open over his rising prick.  
James couldn’t help but look at it. Look his fill.  
Much like Fred himself it was handsome. Slim and curled endearingly to the left.  
He felt his own prick twitch at the sight, leaking a bead of moisture.  
Fred spread his legs, leaning one knee against the side of the divan, pressing his other leg firmly against James‘ knee.  
His prick lay heavy with blood in the crook of his hip, a drop of liquid gathering at the tip.  
James could almost taste it, the salt and bitterness.  
Fred made a little noise, stretching like a cat on the divan, hands reaching for James.  
"Sir, come here."

James undid his cuffs and put Fred’s neck tie down on the divan. He pulled his braces down from his shoulders.  
Fred quietly said "Yes," hands roaming over the cushions above his head, one foot falling to the floor, legs splayed open.  
"Pretty as a picture," James said and smiled at the way Fred lifted his hips at the praise.  
Next James undid the buttons on his trousers, Fred licking his lips with every button coming out of its hole.  
James pushed the flaps aside and undid the laces on his drawers. The relief made him sigh, swaying faintly where he stood.  
Fred trailed a hand up from James‘ knee and cupped his bollocks through the trousers and drawers.  
"Sir," he said and smiled.  
Opened his mouth and leaned in, half rising on his elbows. The flush on his cheeks was back, spreading down his throat and chest.  
The hair at the nape of his neck curled with his sweat.  
James stepped closer and let Fred kiss at the very tip of his prick.  
It sent a shudder through him, arse clenching and eyes closing for a breath or two.

The warmth of Fred’s breath, the gentle pressure of his hand were all there was for a long moment.  
When he opened his eyes again Fred was smiling, lips pressed against the shaft, one hand still cradling James‘ bollocks.  
He touched Fred’s sweaty temple gently and then sat down by Fred’s hip. One hand on his thigh, the other splayed wide over Fred’s narrow chest. He couldn’t quite reach both nipples at the same time, but he rubbed firmly down on the one he had in reach.  
Fred moaned, leaning into the touch, hips canted, searching for friction.  
His hands hung limp at his sides.  
James reached between his splayed thighs and cupped him in one hand, pressing Fred’s prick up against his belly. The little drop at the tip doubled in size and then stickily dripped down to Fred’s skin.  
One of Fred’s hands curled over James‘ thigh, the fingers dipping under his bunched shirt tails and then up over his belly, to lightly scratch at his ribs.  
Fred’s eyes were bright, feverish and stuck on James‘ face.  
He looked like James had thought a prophet must look when he’d been a boy.

"Tell me, sir, am I your boy?", Fred asked breathlessly, shivering in James‘ hands.  
James groaned, rubbing insistently at Fred. His own prick twitched, leaking untouched.  
"You are."  
"Am I?"  
"Yes, Freddie, you are. My boy, my dear boy." He leaned down, dropping his brow against Fred’s temple, kissing his cheek, the corner of his eye, his hairline.  
"My beautiful, pretty boy."  
Fred made a pleased sound and lifted his hips into James‘ palm, prick hot and silky and stiffening just that little bit more.  
He gasped for breath, so sweet a sound that James wanted to hear it again and again and again.  
So James pinched a nipple between two fingers and twisted, leaning down to bite the other.  
Fred shouted, body lifting off the divan, hands buried in James‘ hair.  
There was a hot spurt of seed against James‘ palm and Fred sagged against the divan, a puppet with its strings cut.  
His eyes were glassy. His breath came quick and flat.  
James pressed a kiss to his swollen nipple and then another one to his mouth, smiling.  
"My good boy, Freddie. Did that make you feel good?"  
Fred mumbled against James‘ mouth, fingers still tangled in his hair.

James squeezed Fred’s wet prick gently and was rewarded with a soft moan against his lips.  
His eyelids fluttered, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He looked divine.  
"Sir, please," Fred said, voice soft and small.  
James swallowed, leg jittering against the side of the divan.  
"Yes, Freddie?"  
This was a novelty.  
Normally, even shortly after his crisis - Hell, during his crisis - Fred was snarky. Tongue in cheek and not at all James‘ good boy.  
Not today, though.  
Maybe the note had touched Fred deeper than he would ever admit.  
Maybe, just maybe, there was some tender part of Fred’s heart that James had reached.  
James smiled and licked over his mustache.  
He liked Fred like this.  
Sweet and pliable, liquid with content and pressing up against James. Kissing him, mumbling against James‘ clothed shoulder.  
Cat-like in his affection.

"What do you need, my dear boy?"  
Fred laughed, nuzzling against James‘ thigh, the crook of his hip and then lapped at his prick like a kitten.  
James grunted, hips twitching.  
Fred rubbed his cheek over James‘ prick, dark eyes blinking up at him. They looked wet, eyelashes clumped together.  
James wiped a thumb under one eye, but it came away dry.  
Fred licked his lips and smiled.  
"You, sir," he said, "Split me open. Make me scream. Fill me with your seed, sir, please."  
James inhaled deeply, prick twitching against Fred’s warm mouth, leaking a thick drop of liquid. Fred lapped it up, moaning at the taste.  
His eyes rolled back.  
"Freddie..."

He stroked Fred’s sweaty hair, swiped a thumb over the fragile skin behind his ear, touched his collarbone, the hollow of his throat. The bobbing adam’s apple.  
Fred moved his mouth over James‘ cockstand, tilting it so that he could swallow it down easily.   
The wet heat of Fred’s mouth wiped James‘ mind blank.  
He lost himself in the feeling for a moment. Then the head of his prick hit the back of Fred’s throat and James cursed, balling a tight fist on his thigh.  
"Stop, Freddie, let off."  
Fred groaned and pulled off reluctantly, licking his lips with a hungry little grin. His fingers stayed in a loose circle around the base of James‘ prick.  
It was tempting to just thrust back into Fred’s mouth and completely lose himself in it.  
But James had other plans he wanted to enact today.  
He could have Fred’s throat later, maybe.

"Let go, dear boy, and turn around. Hold on to the backrest and spread your knees."  
Fred grumbled, but let go of James, rearranging his limbs as loudly as possible.  
James stood from his perch on the divan and crossed the short distance to the bureau, prick bobbing awkwardly between his legs.  
There was a small bottle of oil nestled with the spare candle sticks and James pulled the stopper free.  
It didn’t smell rancid and was still warm and smooth to the touch.  
Good enough for what he had in mind.  
He turned back to the divan and caught Fred staring at him, one hand on the sloping curve of the side of the divan. His other shoulder was moving faintly and James smiled.  
"Are you being bad, Freddie?"  
"No, sir," Fred said and didn’t stop moving his hand. There was a sly smile hanging on one corner of his mouth.  
His eyes followed James‘ bobbing prick as he walked back to the divan.  
James stopped before it and leaned down, kissing Fred.  
"Well, then that’s good. I’d hate to have to punish you for being bad, Freddie."

A little shudder travelled down Fred’s spine.  
James couldn’t help the rush of excitement coursing through his veins. His blood was up to begin with, and now Fred would maybe enjoy being punished? Would like being held accountable for his selfish, childish actions?  
For embarrassing James, his friend and benefactor, his...  
The thought trailed off fruitlessly and James walked stiffly around the divan, Fred craning his head to try and keep looking at him.  
"Eyes front, Freddie."  
"Aye, sir." And that came out with naval inflection, shoulders squared and hips steady where he knelt.  
He was still touching himself, cradling his prick in his hand.  
James put an appreciative hand on Fred’s smooth arse and picked the discarded tie up from the divan. The silk unspooled in his hands and he let it trail over the small of Fred’s back, where sweat pooled slowly but steadily.  
Fred moaned loudly, thighs quivering, flanks heaving, like those of a race horse, slick with sweat after the races.  
James leaned down and inhaled the sweat off of the back of Fred’s neck.  
"Put your wrists together, boy," James whispered against Fred’s shoulder and put the flask of oil down.  
"Yes, sir." Fred reluctantly pulled his hand away from frigging himself and put his wrists together.

James reached between Fred’s splayed thighs and trailed the silk over his stiffening prick. Fred gasped, jerking forward. He turned his head, eyes wide and glassy again, mouth so pink and lush that James couldn’t help but lean forward and lick into it.  
"Sir," Fred moaned into the kiss and keened.  
It was music to James‘ ears, sweeter than any hymn he knew.  
He broke the kiss and then leaned over Fred, wrapping the silk tie twice around his wrists, and looping a good, tight knot.  
Fred licked his lips, eyes following the loops of silk for a moment. If he wanted to get out of the ties, then there was nothing James would do to stop him. Nothing James could do to stop him.  
A sailor couldn’t be kept in a knot he could pick at.  
"Oh, that’s new."  
There was a hint of forced nonchalance in Fred’s voice and James smiled to himself.  
Followed the minute tremor travelling Fred’s spine until it culminated in a full body shiver.  
"It is. Don’t get used to it, Freddie."  
Fred pulled gently at the restraints and then smiled at James over his shoulder.  
"Alright, sir."  
"Good boy, eyes front. Arms stay like that."

James shrugged out of his shirt, soaked with sweat as it was, and then pulled his trousers down, shucking them to the side.  
The braces clinked against the floor.  
"Sir, are you undressing?"  
"Yes, Freddie."  
Fred huffed and shimmied a bit against the divan.  
"May I look?"  
"No."  
Fred protested, but shut up, when James pinched the back of his thigh.  
"Ouch."  
"Be good, and I won’t have to pinch you again, Freddie."  
"Promises, promises."  
James rolled his stockings down and put them aside, picking up the oil from between Fred’s knees.  
His arm brushed Fred’s hot skin and he shivered, prick bobbing between his legs. It was stiff as a flagpole, head already purpling with blood.  
The stopper dropped to the floor, rolling against Fred’s discarded shoes, and James poured oil over his fingers.  
Warmed it between them for but a moment an then he dragged them over the cleft of Fred’s arse, making him jump and yelp.

"Give a man a warning, sir!"  
"You’re a boy, Freddie, not a man. No warnings for boys, hmm?"  
Fred cursed under his breath and rocked back against the gentle massage James was giving his puckered hole.  
"Do you want it inside?"  
Fred made a loud noise and started nodding frantically, knees slipping further apart on the divan.  
"Oh, please, please, I’ve wanted you inside since last night. The whole night I kept thinking how good you fill me up, sir, and then I got your note and I frigged myself, thinking about you saying those things to me with your fat prick up my arse."  
James bit his lip, prick leaking a thin dribble down his shaft, making him shiver.  
One day he’d come to his crisis simply because of the things Fred said when he was splayed out and hungry for more.  
"Ready, my boy?"  
"Yes, sir," Fred breathed, head dropping between his shoulders.  
He trembled once more and James smoothed an oily hand down his flank.  
Breached Fred, finger snug inside of his body.

It was like seeing him come to life: He sucked a breath in, back curling, pushing his arse into James‘ palm. A beautiful flush spread over his shoulders, sweat rolling down his spine to gather in the small of his back, where it tipped the balance and the droplets trickled down Fred’s waist and thighs.  
Like dew on a petal.  
James lapped some of it up, swallowing the salt.  
"You are a sight to behold, Freddie. Prettier than any actress, any whore in a bordello. Prettier than those mollies with their painted lips and cheap dresses."  
Fred groaned, knees spreading an inch more.  
James pushed a second finger into him, stretching the tight entrance with care. It still made Fred gasp, thighs tensing against James.  
Fred was exceptionally sensitive.

He had a tendency to rush himself, grit his teeth through the obvious pain and laugh into James‘ face when James tried to slow him to a reasonable pace.  
But a flick of a nail against his nipples, a careful scratch over his entrance, or a hint of teeth to his prick and Fred was a mewling mess.  
The same went for two fingers spreading him ever so slowly, oil dribbling down his thighs.  
James took hold of his straining prick, holding tight to the base, to stave off his imminent crisis.  
Fred wanted to be bred like a girl? Well, who was James to keep that joy from him.  
"Slick like a girl for me, Freddie. So pretty and pink. You should see yourself."  
Fred shuddered, forehead pressed to the divan, between his tied wrists.  
"Sir, I beg you, have mercy. I need you!"

And that was gospel to James‘ ears. Sweet cries for mercy spilling from Fred’s lips easier than his usual vitriol.  
His voice was thick with tears and James pressed a kiss to the back of Fred’s neck.  
He pushed his fingers as deeply into Fred as he could, pulling them out with a twist that made Fred cry out sweetly.  
"Stay calm, my boy. I’ll fill you up in a moment."  
Fred twisted his head over his shoulder, cheeks wet with tears and lips bitten pink and sore.  
A sight to behold.  
And that James did.  
"Please, sir," Fred begged and swallowed raggedly around a sniffle.  
No possible way of saying no to Fred when he was like that came to mind, so James did what he thought was right.  
He stepped as close to the divan as he could, without kneeling on it, and slicked his blood-heavy prick with the rest of the oil.

"I’m here, Freddie, brace for it, now, and don’t cry. You’ve been very, very good and you deserve this. Promise me to stay good, and be there when I ask you for a meeting, yes?"  
Fred swallowed again and nodded, tears rolling over his red cheeks.  
"I promise, sir, I promise to be your good boy and do as you ask. I won’t be late and I won’t embarrass you again."  
"Very good," James managed between clenched teeth and pulled Fred’s buttocks apart, watching his hole flutter for a moment or two.  
Until Fred begged again, voice soft and broken by a gasp.  
Then James rubbed his prick into the oily cleft, relishing the full-bodied shiver Fred gave in return.  
So sensitive.  
"I’ll breed you, boy, and you’ll say thank you," James breathed into Fred’s ear and Fred moaned, nodding.  
"Yes, sir."

He pushed the swollen head of his prick inside and Fred shouted his name, head thrown back and hands clenched around the edge of the backrest.  
James reached around Fred’s heaving flank and rolled a nipple between two fingers.  
Fred groaned, back dipping further, pushing his arse against James‘ gentle thrusts.  
He was already half wild for it all and James was not far behind. He inhaled through his nose and kept on pushing into Fred until he was sheathed fully in the tight heat of him.  
Then he had to stop for a few deep breaths, willing himself to hold on just a moment longer no matter how imminent his crisis seemed.  
His hand twitched over Fred’s chest, making him moan.  
"Slick like a girl, boy, and twice as pretty."  
Fred whined, shivering under James‘ hands and their ministrations.  
"James, sir, please, fill me up, I need your seed in me. I’ll be so good to you, so good, I promise."  
With an ungentlemanly grunt James put one foot up on the seat of the divan and drove hard and deep into Fred.  
Fred clenched around him, hole fluttering and breath hitching. James let go of his nipple and reached down to touch the sticky head of his cock.  
"Did that feel good, boy?"  
Nonsensical babble and a shaky nod. Yes, then.

James did it again.

Fred cried out, spilling his seed over James‘ palm for the second time today.  
It was the shuddering, the fluttering heat around his prick, that made James topple headfirst over the edge.  
He finished as deep inside Fred as he could get, fingers digging bruises into Fred’s hipbones.  
Fred sobbed, shaking in James‘ arms, seed dribbling down his thighs as James slowly pulled out.  
His skin was wet with sweat, his hair dripping, thighs filthy with oil and seed.  
James swallowed around the knot in his throat and slid his fingers through the sticky mess running down Fred’s shaking legs.  
That was his essence he had so readily given up for Freddie.  
He scooped some of it up and fed it back into his quivering hole.

Fred sobbed, shoulders heaving and legs spreading.  
His hole clenched around James‘ fingers.  
"Please," he moaned and James kissed his turned, tear-streaked cheek.  
"What do you need, my boy? You’ve been very good. You deserve a little treat."  
James voice was barely more than a croak, but Fred still looked at him.  
Fred swallowed, lower lip bitten raw and red, his tongue darting out to touch the corner of his mouth.  
"Thank you, sir."  
James shivered, two fingers in Fred’s loose hole and his bruised hip cradled in his other hand.  
It was an inopportune moment to be reminded of the fact that he loved Fred, but he couldn’t help the sharp pang of his heart, lurching in his chest and then plummeting to his belly.

"So good," he rasped and sat down on the divan, pulling Fred into his lap. His fingers slid out of the mess James had made of Fred’s body and dragged wetly over his hip.  
He hugged Fred against his chest, cupping his sweaty head in his cleaner palm.  
Fred’s bound wrists pressed into James‘ chest, fingers scrabbling over his skin.  
James kissed his temple and closed his eyes, listening to the little hiccups and shivering breaths Fred took. They slowly calmed, only the odd sniffle here and there, Fred whimpering whenever he moved a certain way and the mess gathering in James‘ lap grew.  
"Can you please untie me, sir?"  
"Yes, Freddie, my dear boy, of course."  
Hurriedly James pulled the silken tie loose around Fred’s wrists and kissed the thin skin stretching over his pulse.  
He could see no bruising, but it was hard to tell so shortly after having Fred tied up.

Fred lifted his arms and looped them around James‘ neck, pulling him in for a lazy, sloppy kiss. James tasted salt on Fred’s lips and his tongue and underneath that the soft inexplicable taste of his mouth.  
Slowly he leaned back against the corner of the divan, gathering Fred against his chest and kissing him.  
He never stopped. Kept on licking into his mouth, touching the corner of Fred’s plush lips and then kissing them again, sucking on them and relishing the little breathy moans Fred was too tired to hold back.  
Kissing Fred was something James could do every day and never grow tired of.  
"My sweet Freddie," James whispered into his mouth and stroked his palm from the curve of Fred’s shoulder blade to the swell of his arse.  
Fred snuggled against him, hands limp and sweaty against James‘ collarbones.  
"James," he sighed and his head rolled against the side of James‘ neck.  
"Dear boy, you shouldn’t sleep here, you’ll catch your death, sweat through as you are. Let me take you up for a wash and I’ll put you to rest in my bed."  
Fred mumbled a weak protest and James hushed him with a kiss to the brow.  
They both loved having Fred in James‘ bed.  
And today James felt like induging in it.  
Gently he slid out from under Fred and dressed in his trousers and shirtsleeves, gathering his and Fred’s things over his arm.  
Then he took the warm, soft throw from the arm of the armchair and wrapped Fred up in it.  
"What are you doing, sir?", Fred asked against the corner of James‘ jaw and let himself be lifted. His arms came around James‘ neck again, a smile tucked into his shoulder.  
"Taking you upstairs, my dear boy."

The hallway was deserted and James crossed it swiftly, floor cool against his naked feet.  
Up the stairs and then into the washroom, where he put Fred down on the plush bench by the window.  
"I’ll be right back, Freddie, stay put, yes?"  
Fred nodded and leaned his head against the wall. His eyes were still a bit wet, face touched by a sense of calm James had never noticed on Fred’s handsome face before. It suited him.  
The throw had fallen open over his flushed, sweaty chest and James licked his lips at the sight of Fred’s stiff nipples. They were swollen, teeth marks around one.  
James smiled to himself and left the washroom, raiding the linen closet in the hallway.  
A moment after leaving Fred to his own devices he returned with an arm full of his softest towels and his favourite robe, blue slik and velvet.  
Fred was almost asleep where he sat.

James urged him awake again and helped him get to his feet, the throw falling off his shoulders like a shroud.  
An angel revealing its wings to a prophet.  
James dipped a washcloth in the water and soaped the corner. Knelt down by Fred’s feet and started washing him.  
Gently wiping seed and oil and sweat off his perfect marble skin, making the blooming bruises stand out on his hips.  
James kissed each of the little dots in apology and Fred smoothed the hair on the back of his head, pressing James‘ head firmly against his skin.  
"I loved that, sir. You grabbing me like that and having your way with me."  
A little shiver passed through Fred and James picked it up, shaking where he knelt on the floor.  
A supplicant at the lavish feast of a king.

Head still bent James rose to his feet shakily and took Fred’s face in two hands.  
He could not look him in the eyes.  
Fred stroked a sluggish hand up and down James‘ arm and smiled, mouth for once not in that sardonic grimace, but the soft curve of true joy.  
James swallowed and washed Fred’s chest with shaking hands.  
Then under his arms, down to his wrists. His lean neck, the back of it and his shoulders. James stepped closer, dragging the washcloth down Fred’s back with gentle pressure.  
Fred swayed into him and James clenched his jaw.  
To hold Fred, naked as a greek god – beautiful as one – and be clothed himself!  
To smell sweat still in Fred’s hair and yet the scent of soap rising from his throat.  
James felt his prick stir in the loose confines of his trousers. Wondered, if Fred could feel the heat of it, even through the cloth.

"Sir," Fred said, and then, even more quiet, "James." He rested his cheek against James‘ collarbone, nosing at his throat.  
His hands fisted the back of James‘ shirt and slowly pulled it out of his trousers.  
James dropped the washcloth on the floor and cradled the swell of Fred’s arse in a hand, the other stroking the back of his neck softly.  
"Yes, Freddie dear?"  
Fred made a pleased noise and splayed his hand on the bare small of James‘ back. His palm was hot and wet from washing.  
"Your Freddie."  
"My Freddie. All mine."  
There was a rush of exhilaration as Fred grinned against James‘ skin, nails scratching faintly over his back.  
"All yours, indeed."  
The liquid inflection, the tiredness in Fred’s voice was slowly giving way to his more put on, every-day lilt.

James carefully grabbed Fred by the back of the head, pulling it back slightly. Fred came willingly, head almost lolling in James‘ palm.  
His eyes were still dark with his pupils and his mouth was still red and plump.  
James feasted on it.  
Pressed Fred against his chest and urged him backwards, two steps, until the padded bench hit the back of Fred’s knees and he gracefully dropped on the seat.  
"Sir?" he asked, tongue between his lips and hands on James‘ waistband.  
Saucy again.  
James smoothed his thumb over Fred’s cheekbone, the red flush still clinging to his skin deepened a shade and he demurely lowered his gaze.  
"My sweet, sweet boy. Will you be good for me once more today? Make me feel good, hmm?"  
Fred nodded, looked at James through his thick lashes, more accomplished at making James‘ blood rise than any woman he had ever met. Be it at a society function, a Navy ball, or the dank din of an alehouse or bordello.  
No one made him feel the same way as Fred made him feel.  
So alive.  
So loved.

"Good boy. Open the trousers."  
James pulled his shirt over his head and Fred started on the buttons with clever, sure fingers. The attention, being the focal point of Fred, made James‘ prick rise fully, his cockstand practically snuggling into Fred’s palm.  
James dropped his shirt. Swayed forward against Fred, one hand coming to rest on his moist, naked shoulder.  
Fred smiled and frigged James once, slowly from root to tip.  
James‘ thumb dug into Fred’s clavicle.  
"Take it in, Freddie."  
"Into my mouth?", Fred asked, hand moving over the shaft again. He scooted forward on his seat, bracketing James‘ legs with his knees. His head was tilted back so he could look up at James, hair falling away from his forehead.  
James leaned down and kissed Fred’s brow.  
"Yes, dear boy. Into your mouth. Mind the teeth."  
Fred opened his mouth, tongue extended and James swallowed heavily. Smoothed his mustache uselessly.  
With great care Fred closed his fist around the root of James‘ cockstand and placed the head on the middle of his tongue.  
He exhaled, hot breath washing over James‘ sensitive prick. James shivered, hips jerking forward with a small thrust.  
Fred took it in, moving forward, tongue wrapping around James‘ prick, lips closing against the ring of Fred’s fingers.

James clenched his jaw and smoothed his thumb over Fred’s shoulder, trying to be gentle against the impulse to thrust wildly into Fred’s mouth.  
He wanted to get into his tight throat, make Fred moan and grunt with the force of his thrusts, eyes watering and cheeks red.  
He wanted Fred to gasp and cough for air whenever James pulled back, wanted to feel him swallow and swallow and swallow around the weight on his tongue.  
He wanted Fred to be hoarse for the rest of the week.  
Wanted it so that Fred had to think about James whenever he spoke.  
And Fred spoke a lot.  
"Do you want me to take what I want, Freddie?"  
Fred’s closed eyes snapped open, free hand smoothing up James‘ trouser leg.  
One tap against James‘ hip.  
Their sign for "Yes, please."  
James swallowed, nodded to himself and shifted his hand from Fred’s shoulder to the side of his neck. Supporting the curve of his skull in his palm.  
Tried not to think about how easy a man’s spine broke, his skull cracked.  
James swallowed and rubbed his thumb over Fred’s sweat-wet scalp.  
Then he tugged Fred’s hand away from his prick and placed it on his hip, squeezing it, until Fred held on.  
James cupped Fred’s bulging cheek, feeling the outline of his prick through the flesh. Fred pressed it more firmly into his cheek with his tongue and they both groaned.

"You are as if I have dreamt you up, sometimes, Freddie," James said, when he had breath again to speak.  
Fred shivered faintly and his eyes closed, mouth loosening a bit in a smile.  
James took that opportunity to thrust harshly into it, forcing his whole length into Fred’s mouth.  
The head of his prick touched the back of Fred’s throat and Fred made a strangled noise, hands flexing on James‘ hips.  
Fred’s nose was pressed flat against James belly, breath coming in thin, reedy gasps.  
James cursed under his breath and put both hands in Fred’s hair. Adjusted the angle and pulled half out, giving Fred air.  
His nostrils flared and his eyes were already watering, fixed on James. They were dark with lust.  
There was nothing that James could do, faced with Fred like this.

He thrust into the tight heat again and again, never relenting.  
Spittle dripped down Fred’s chin, he breathed raggedly through his nose, hands clawing at James‘ hips.  
James abused his throat, pulled his hair and panted curses.  
It sounded obscene. Looked even worse, probably, but James could not care, not right now.  
He was so close.  
On every other thrust Fred gathered enough of his wits to suck at James‘ prick, tongue flicking against the underside of it.  
It was those little flicks that made James thrust all the harder into Fred’s throat, crushing his nose into his pubic hair, pressing it flat against his pubic bone.  
Fred’s hands slid around James‘ hips, scrabbling at his arse for a better hold and James‘ hips jerked.  
Nothing quite like fingernails digging into his arse while he was fucking Fred’s throat with more force than any whore would ever allow.  
No matter the price.

"Such a good boy," he panted, thumb wiping a few of the errant tears spilling with every forward move.  
Fred keened around the prick on his tongue.  
James pulled out almost entirely, only the head still in Fred’s hot mouth. He suckled at it, like a kitten, moaning and gasping.  
He was crying freely now, face flushed bright red.  
"Are you stiff again, boy?", James asked, panting.  
Fred moaned and tapped twice against James‘ arse.  
"No? Do you want to be? Do you want to waste your seed a third time today? Feed no one with it, breed no one with it? Spill it uselessly on my palm again?"  
Fred sobbed and shook his head, sucking more of James‘ prick into his mouth again, suckling on it. He pushed the head against the roof of his mouth and James groaned, grabbing a fistful of Fred’s hair.  
"You want to be used? You want to be a vessel for my pleasure, yes? Want to swallow my essence greedily, my boy? Everything for you? Will you leave nothing to someone else?"  
Fred shivered and swallowed James down to the root, nose brushing against the pubic bone again.  
"All yours, my beautiful boy. All mine."  
James pulled half out and Fred swallowed around the movement. He sobbed openly, hands desperate against James‘ skin.  
"Do you want it? Swallow it?"  
Fred moaned, knees pressing against James‘ legs.  
"Or do you want me to pour it down your throat? Stretch you and make you take it."  
He gave Fred a moment to think it through, thrusting shallowly into his hot mouth. Fred moaned on every thrust, breath stuttering.

"Tap once for swallowing and twice for me in your throat."  
Two shaky taps.  
James‘ knees almost gave in.

Only his hands on Fred kept him upright, Fred grunted through the weight James put on him for a long moment.  
"Oh, Freddie," he sighed when he got his bearings back, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his hair. James licked his lips, mustache wet with sweat.  
He felt depraved, caught a glance of himself in the looking glass and immediately looked away again.  
If he weren’t so sure it was only him and Fred in the room, then he would have looked over his shoulder for that cruel, cruel man that choked poor Fred with his prick.  
James swallowed, a grin tugging at his mouth. It was freeing to be such a rascal, once in a while.  
No wonder Fred was like that.

James cupped Fred’s cheek gently in one hand and rubbed tears into his skin.  
"You’re such a good boy. So good to me. Relax now, open up for me. I don’t want to hurt you."  
Freddie shivered where he sat and then opened his mouth around James‘ prick, tongue unfurling against the underside of it, against the beating vein.  
James took himself in hand and rubbed the head of his prick over Fred’s tongue. Silk and heat and cloying wetness.  
That and the smell of salt, the musk of arousal shrouding them, made James think inevitably of hunting, so close as it was to the musk of a deer, freshly shot.  
Stalking, shooting and then drawing a blade deep through fur and muscle.  
The sticky wet of blood on his hands.  
Fred moaned and James blinked himself out of the forest.  
With a sharp inhale he shook the memories of gutting game, feeling those same things, only sickened by the bursting flavour of iron on his tongue.  
Fred was a comfort, gutting game the opposite.

James swallowed, frigged himself a few times, pushing a drop of slick out on Fred’s tongue, making him shiver like a leaf.  
Thre was no time for fancies now. Fred was all he needed. All he wanted.  
"Ready, boy?"  
One tap and James delved in.  
A single smooth thrust and he was nestled in Fred’s throat. It pressed in tightly around James‘ prick and he was almost sure he could feel Fred’s racing pulse against the skin of his prick.  
"Oh," James croaked and soothingly touched Fred’s brow.  
His nose was pressed against James‘ groin again, breath coming fast and flat.  
"Can you swallow, Freddie? Swallow and you’ll get your fill."

Fred flattened his palms against James‘ arse and stayed still for many rapid heartbeats.  
James closed his eyes, head rolling back.  
The sun had climbed around the corner of the house and bathed the room in her warm light. It was luxurious to stand there, naked feet on the cool tiles, his prick nestled warmly in Fred’s snug throat and the sun on his face.  
He felt the tell-tale prickle of his crisis at the back of his spine, legs tensing with the feeling, skin rising in gooseflesh. His nipples pebbled and James sighed, sweat rolling down his spine, making him shiver.  
Fred made a strangled noise, throat vibrating around James and he hissed, fisting Fred’s hair tightly.  
It was that, the pull on Fred’s scalp, that finally made him swallow roughly, throat clenching futilely around the prick stuffed in it.  
James‘ eyes flew open, a hand dropped from Fred’s hair to his neck, thumb brushing over the subtle bulge of his prick in Fred’s throat.  
His crisis washed over him, the room blackening for two, three seconds.  
He was faintly aware of Fred making a noise, the scratch of nails over the backs of his thighs.  
But there was a buzz in his ears, the room washed out, tunneled to the spot of sunlight the looking glass reflected onto the wall.

A desperate three-timed tap brought James back into the room, Fred’s throat fluttering around his prick.  
James gasped, let go of Fred’s hair and gently eased him off his shrinking cockstand.  
"Freddie, my boy, oh, Freddie, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?"  
He dropped to his knees again, cradling Fred’s wet face in his hands.  
Fred was coughing, tears rolling down his nose, spit dripping off his chin. His chest heaved, hands shaking on James‘ elbows.  
"Don’t try to speak, I’ll fetch you a glass of water. Stay where you are and try to breathe."  
It came out sternly, James‘ slipping, helplessly, into a tone of voice that was more at place aboard ship. But Fred only nodded, hands hanging limply between his shaking legs.  
His cheeks were mottled in bright red and a waxy paleness.  
James rose and swiftly crossed into his bedroom, fetching a glass and the covered pitcher from his nightstand.  
Back in the washroom he poured half a glass for Fred and advised him to drink slowly.  
Every swallow was ragged, Fred’s adam’s apple jumping.

James filled the glass again, prick hanging stupidly out of the flap of his trousers, so he kicked them off, taking a seat next to Fred.  
He rubbed over Fred’s spine, thoughts running amok. What if he’d been too rough, what if he’d somehow hurt Fred’s throat beyond repair, what if Fred would choke, throat swollen beyond help from James‘ harsh treatment?  
What if he lost his gorgeous voice to James‘ lust like this?  
"Stop worrying, James, I can hear your head buzzing like a hive," Fred croaked, voice barely more than a whisper. He looked at James from the corner of his eyes, glass lifted to his swollen, abused mouth.  
James shifted on the bench and wrung his hands in his lap. Tears burned behind his eyelids.  
"I’m sorry, Fred, if I hurt you."

"Not that I didn’t ask for it, mind." Fred grinned sharply and patted James‘ knee with a sluggish, shaking hand. "It was good. I just need a moment. A nap, maybe."  
That was something James could do. Give Fred time and make him comfortable.  
"Let me help you to bed, Fred."  
Fred opened his mouth, snide curl to his lip and James steeled himself for a cruel, half-jesting refusal.  
Then Fred closed his mouth and swallowed, turning his glass in his hand, eyes mapping the cut pattern in the glass.  
"Very kind of you, thank you."  
"Ah," James said smartly and looked at the blue floor tiles. His cheeks were hot, heart close to bursting in his chest.

Fred placed his glass on the floor with a clink and stretched his back with a hoarse groan. There were audible pops and James winced.  
"Does your back hurt?"  
"I’ll be a bit sore tomorrow, but not worse than a full day of heavy sailing," Fred croaked, patting James‘ thigh before rising to his wobbly legs.  
James stood, putting his arm around Fred.  
"Put the robe on, Fred."  
"What for? The two steps into your room?", Fred scoffed, coughed and pulled James towards the door. "And you’re just as biblical as I am, James, darling."  
There was a little pinch to James‘ arse and he inhaled sharply.  
He knew that Fred mocked him with pet names, but still. Always a rush of inexplicable joy.  
Well, James told himself it was inexplicable. Better than being constantly confronted with loving Fred.

"Come on then," he said and opened the washroom door.  
Downstairs Edmund puttered around audibly, singing, and Fred immediately picked the melody up, humming it under his breath, even as James closed his bedroom door behind them.  
Three long steps to the bed and Fred grunted into the pillows, stretched out like a cat on his belly.  
James smiled fondly and pulled the curtains closed but for a small strip of light to curl up on the floor.  
Fred was looking at him when James turned back, the room dim now.  
It was hard to pinpoint his expression in the little light of the curtain gap. James tried not to interpret it unduly.  
"James," Fred said softly, voice cracking.  
James knelt by the bed, smoothing Fred’s sweaty hair from his brow.  
"Yes, Fred?"  
"Do you want to have dinner with me, James? Thursday, seven thirty? I’ll get us a nice table in one of those fancy restaurants you always want to take me to."  
"Oh, Fred. I’d eat fish and chips on the waterfront with you, if you wanted me to do that."  
Fred laughed and closed his eyes.  
"Dinner it is. On thursday."  
"On thursday."  
"Don’t be late."

James laughed, eyes wet and climbed over Fred into his bed. He pulled the sheets around them and stared at the ceiling for a breath or two.  
Slowly, a leaden heaviness settled in his limbs.  
"I promise, James. Thursday." Fred scooted over the mattress and pressed up against James‘ chest, hands warm on his skin.  
"Dinner on thursday," James said quietly to himself and kissed Fred’s temple. "I’ll be there."  
"Hmm. I’ll send you a note." Fred yawned and stretched his legs, tangling them with James‘ under the sheets.

James laughed softly and closed his eyes.  
He didn’t dream. There was no need to. All he wanted was in his arms.


End file.
